


four hundred

by luckycharmz



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckycharmz/pseuds/luckycharmz
Summary: Patrick scores his 400th goal. But somethings missing.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 19
Kudos: 96





	four hundred

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of WIP’s and what do I choose to do? Throw together something in a few hours because I’m an emotional bitch. 
> 
> Thank you to the amazing [Dalek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek) for being my beta.
> 
> Also, let’s assume Jonny’s in Canada.

_Call me._

That’s all the message from Jonny says when Patrick checks his phone. He’s showered and dressed in his suit once again, curls wet and tucked under his beanie. 

Patrick ducks his head and smiles, the media’s gone and most of the guys have filtered out of the locker room by now.

He hooks the strap of his gear bag around his shoulder, nods at the few guys straying behind and heads out. The moment he steps out the building, he dials Jonny’s number. 

He picks up on the first ring. 

“Hi, Patrick.”

Patrick sighs. His heart thuds in his chest. 

“Hey, Jon.”

Patrick hears a door slide open and shut, he figures Jonny’s on his deck. The air is clearer and it’s easier to think out there, or so he says.

“Always gotta one up me, eh?” Jonny says eventually.

Patrick skitters in his steps. He throws his bag in the trunk and then leans against it. Talking to Jonny is easy, _so_ easy. Feels like the glide of skates on fresh ice sort of easy and yet, and yet hearing his voice makes Patrick forget everything. Nothing— _no one,_ stands against Jonny. 

“Pat?” 

“Hey, yeah. I’m here. Sorry.” He sighs into the phone, tugs his beanie lower over his ears. 

“Don’t be sorry for the being the best.” Jonny says it like it’s easy. 

“Second to you maybe.”

“Okay, Mr. 400.” 

Patrick’s breath hitches. “You watched the game?”

“And miss watching you make history? Come on, who do you take me for?”

Patrick nods, then remembers Jonny’s not here to see it. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t _man_ me, dumbass. I’m fucking proud of you, Peeks.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. Leave it to Jonny to be bossy over the fucking phone, a million miles away. He slips into his car and throws his head back. 

“It’s not the same,” he whispers. 

“What’s not the same?” Jonny asks. Always listening to Patrick, always worrying about him.

“You’re not here, Jon. Doesn’t feel the same.” He squeezes his eyes shut before he does something stupid like let his tears slip. 

“Patrick, hey.” Jonny’s voice is low and coaxing. Always knows what Patrick needs. “Chéri.”

Low blow, Patrick thinks. Jonny knows exactly how that name makes him feel. And right now, it feels like home away from home. He feels lost without it. Without him. 

“Nobody cleared the benches.” Patrick goes for joking but it comes out more breathy than anything. 

“Maybe for your one thousandth game then.” 

Patrick’s mind floods with memories from the day he scored his one thousandth point. The roar of the crowd, the entire team clearing the benches in game but most of all? He remembers finding Jonny on the ice, or maybe they didn’t have to find each other. Maybe they were always together. 

Patrick wants to say it still wouldn’t be the same. Nothing this season has been the same and he can’t even fucking blame Jonny. It’s not his fault.

“Oh yeah? You gonna make it happen?” is what he says instead.

Patrick’s expecting a lot of things. Maybe a chirp, a laugh or for Jonny to go all soft again. What he’s not expecting—

“Might have to make it out there.”

And what Jonny says, Jonny always does. 

He said they’d fill the UC up, they did. He said they’d bring hockey back to Chicago, they did. Winning the Stanley Cup, Olympic gold, bringing Patrick home from Biel. He did it all.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Jonathan.” Patrick finds himself biting his nails, a horrible habit, just needing something to calm himself. 

“I can put my mouth where yours is,” Jonny says.

Patrick can practically see the grin on his face, the stupid leer that Patrick secretly finds sexy. 

Patrick laughs. His head slips toward the window and then he presses his forehead against the cool surface. “Flying out to Dallas then?” 

“Have some patience, Patrick.” Jonny laughs, low and hearty, and it’s been so long since Patrick's heard it that—

“Do that again?”

“What?”

“Laugh, Jonny. You know how long it’s been since I’ve heard you laugh?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, so needy but he misses it. Misses Jonny. 

Patrick remembers the last time he heard it. Remembers tripping and falling in their apartment, watching Jonny kneel beside him with a frown before throwing his head back and laughing. And if he did it on purpose? Well, that was between Patrick and himself only. 

“Guess you gotta try harder, eh?” 

Patrick shakes his head, finally turns the key and starts his car. 

“You just got home?”

“No, uh.” He pauses, figures what’s the point of lying when Jonny knows him better than himself. “Called you the second I stepped out.” 

“Good thing you still know how to take orders.” 

“Fuck you.”

Jonny laughs, softer and quieter this time but it’s enough for Patrick. It’s always enough. 

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Patrick connects his phone to his car, listens to Jonny talk about his day as he drives home. It all feels normal until he makes it home and remembers there’s no Jonny to come home to. 

“Five hundred next,” Jonny says. 

“Pretty sure four hundred and one comes next, what do I know—”

“Always a smartass,” Jonny says, soft and warm. “Get some rest, Patrick. You played good today.” 

Patrick turns the car off and presses his phone against his ear again. Listens to Jonny’s soft breaths and lets his own heartbeat sync up with it. 

“Fuck. I fucking miss you.”

Jonny hums. 

Patrick hears the door slide open and shut again. He closes his eyes and just listens. For someone who’s always giving Jonny heat for Winterpeg, Patrick would do just about anything to be there right now. 

“Good. Means you haven’t forgot about me.” Pause. “Soon, eh?”

Patrick bites his lips. Feels his heart skip one too many beats and breathes out. “Soon.”

Patrick makes his way inside his apartment. Hooks up his coat, places his keys and wallet in the stupid bowl Jonny bought and even tucks his shoes neatly against the others. All because it’d put a smile on Jonny’s face. 

He changes into a UND hoodie and worn sweatpants. Eats something light and plugs his phone into the charger. When his head hits the pillows, he hears his phone buzz. 

_Only the 9th American born and 100th all round to reach the milestone._

_Every time I think I couldn’t be more proud_

_You prove me wrong._

The bubbles show up again. Patrick waits. 

_Don't stop proving me wrong, Peeks. I love you._

This time Patrick doesn’t stop the tears from slipping. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment. :)


End file.
